


of belonging

by youmovemesir



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-19 08:35:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youmovemesir/pseuds/youmovemesir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The morning had no right to be so bright, not with the jealousy abruptly burning like dark coals and raging inside his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	of belonging

**Author's Note:**

> based on [this instagram picture](http://instagram.com/p/XeEmZDtdVJ/) of Chris

Darren woke to the feeling of the mattress shifting behind him, the lifted sheets making the chilly air of the morning touch his sleep-warm skin. He blinked his eyes open, rapidly, to the sight of his cyan sunglasses and a pink tie over Chris’ dresser, the closed curtains right in front of him letting weak sunlight stream in like a halo around its edges.

 

He turned onto his side, disarranging the sheets tucked tight around his shoulders, to meet bright blue eyes.

 

“Hey you.” He murmured. He closed his eyes briefly, still half asleep, and felt peaceful for the first time since last night.

“Hi.” Chris answered. His voice was subdued, and when Darren opened his eyes again he could see the sad twist of his mouth, the low angle of his eyebrows. It had been one of those nights.

 

Suddenly wide awake, Darren knew with certainty the reason behind his expression and didn’t have to ask. He didn’t want to. He shuffled closer, leaving no space between them, and pressed his forehead to Chris’ jawline, trying to hide his face into his neck. Darren asked all the same, and it felt like a sharp stab to his own lungs.

“Was he there?”

Darren’s words, whispered into his skin, were almost lost to the feel of Chris’ quickening heartbeat under his lips. Chris took a deep breath before replying, licking his lips with hesitation. He wished he would lie. He wished he hadn’t asked. He wished the answer was anything other but the truth already known.

“Yes.”

Darren’s hands clenched involuntarily around Chris’ bicep, and neither said anything else for a while.

 

They owed nothing to each other but their absolute honesty. They had no claims over loyalties, over fidelity. It was supposed to be just their tangible selves, here in these moments of mornings and late nights. Their bodies and nothing more. Chris usually spoke about not belonging to each other (avoiding his eyes, each time) that they couldn’t not with the life Darren led. But unsaid, when it was dark outside and time was suspended with no meaning, when the only company were the thoughts locked inside their own heads they knew they did, irrevocably, belong. Only to each other, not even to themselves. Darren was terrified of the eventual day when Chris had enough and demanded bravery out of him. He didn’t know what his flight or fight response was going to be, and he didn’t want to think about it in fear of what he’d discover of himself.

 

So they kept on as they were, in stolen hours, in contained moments of necessity.

 

Darren pressed his eyelids hard against Chris’ throat, leaving the faint touch of his lips against the pulse point. He raised himself on one forearm, looking at the dearest face he knew looking back at him. Chris’ hair was wild, the product he used last night before the party making odd shapes that made him smile. With his free hand he combed it back from Chris’ tired face, Chris’ content smile pressed against his arm filling him with tenderness. Ever so slowly he let the back of his fingers stroke down Chris’ temple, over his cheek and jaw, soothing him into slumber.

 

The room was fresh and quiet, but the air turned cold and silent the moment Darren saw the fresh red bite on the other side of Chris’ neck.

 

He pressed the bruise with miserable fingertips, making Chris wince and open his eyes again to him. Darren was unready to see it, the physical evidence of it all, and he went dizzy with the unexpected emotion. The morning had no right to be so bright, not with the jealousy abruptly burning like dark coals and raging inside his heart.

“He did it on purpose, didn’t he.”

“Darren—”

“He doesn’t have to fucking touch you at all! Why would you let him!”

Chris pushed him backwards angrily, the flat of his palm high on Darren’s chest. It was too late, or too early in the day, for the one endless repetitive conflict of their relationship. If they could even call it that.

“Shut up! You’re going to that damn Easter party with her and you will get mad at me the next morning when I ask you the same stupid thing!”

 

They stared at each other in silence across the small space, the furious set of their jaws their only way of communication. Darren’s mind went back minutes ago, supplying the memory of Chris’ peaceful face against his pillows, the set of his slack jaw so different from now. Darren wanted to forget he was going to be in that situation in just two days, with her hand like a handcuff on the crook of his arm and her perfume all around him, like an invisible cage he couldn’t escape. The thought made him so tired, he didn’t need any reminder at all.

 

The inability to look away from the bruise made Darren furious with himself, with the depth of his despair and longing. He wanted to erase any trace of another touch, wanted to rid him of the sense memory of skin not his own. Darren’s instincts told him to take this tainted Chris apart, to turn him into unquantifiable pieces just to put him back together the way they always fitted, the both of them, effortlessly again. It was a primal ache Chris understood, and met no resistance or held any reserve when it was his turn to reciprocate.

 

He couldn’t tell who moved first but when he was conscious of his self again, Darren was biting over the red mark, Chris bringing him even closer with both his arms around Darren’s neck. He sucked, and soothed with licks, and bit over and over, making something much bigger and undeniable out of it. Only when he decided it was enough Darren pulled back, tracing his fingers back and forth over the angry brand. Chris was looking at him, right on the edge of his eyesight, and when he looked back they were both struggling with their breathing.

 

Chris pushed his body away from the bed and into Darren, sucked on Darren’s bottom lip with singular intensity and forced him back onto the mattress with the weight of his own body. Darren grabbed his waist, let himself give in. Being so completely covered by Chris felt safe, in a way that calmed the desperate entropy in his heart. Chris’ mouth moving languidly against his, in a kiss that soothed him further, with gentleness in every sweep of Chris’ tongue against the corners of his mouth.

 

But it wasn’t what he really wanted, not really, when he needed something far cruder to tame his jealousy. Darren pushed himself off the mattress and twisted around Chris, making him lay on his back again. The sheets where set aside, uncovering their bodies to the cold air. Darren took Chris’ wrists with one hand, holding them against the middle of his shuddering chest and taking a moment to quickly decide, before trailing his lips wetly across his collarbone, pushing his knees aside with his own legs to make room between them. He set a frantic pace in complete contrast to their calm before, flicked his tongue hard at the nubs of Chris’ nipples, sucking them into his mouth at turns and letting go of Chris’ hands when they started to struggle and submitting to the scratch of Chris’ short nails on his back.

 

He felt Chris hardening against his own bulge, grinding slow and hard against him once before sitting back on his heels. He stroked his hands down Chris’ muscular thighs, admiring the blush on his pale face and the way his throat swallowed thickly. His hands moved absent-mindedly in tight circles over Chris’ hipbones, his palms dragging his underwear to the side, making Chris hiss at the touch of the sensitive head of his cock to the elastic band.

 

Darren held Chris’ left knee with one hand and pressed lightly against Chris’ thickening heat with the other, cupping him through his boxer briefs until Chris made a sound of protest. Darren pulled back, moved further down the bed and took off the only piece of clothing Chris had worn to bed.

 

“Don’t tease.” Chris demanded.

Darren didn’t.

 

Lying on his front and gripping Chris’ cock in the circle of one lose hand, Darren wasted no time. He swallowed him whole in one motion, lips dragging against the skin, and limited himself to control the expected jump of Chris’ hips. Chris cried out, his hands curled into tight fists to try to keep the rush of sensations contained. He violently grabbed the pillow behind his head with one hand and the other flew to Darren’s hair, his fingers twisting with possession around the loose curls. His hips fought to roll into the wet heat of Darren’s mouth, inexorably and impatient and Darren relaxed his jaw further, took everything Chris was willing to give him. Breathed him in through his nose, felt his pulse jump under his tongue.

 

He looked up at Chris, at his head thrown back and his sweat-covered chest restless with frantic breathing. He closed his eyes, moaned around him when Chris grunted his pleasure. The quick small movements of the hips under him didn’t stop and the back of his throat started hurting with the abuse and still he didn’t let go, swallowing the first drops of precome and not moving his lips from their tight ring around the base.

 

Minutes later, hours later, a lifetime later, when Chris’s hold on his hair became too much, Darren’s mouth slipped free of Chris’s cock. He forced himself not to cough or clear the moisture on his eyes, and his right hand immediately picked up an unforgiving pace on Chris’ overheated skin, the strokes smooth by his own saliva. He felt himself hard against the mattress, almost to the point of pain, and knew with the familiarity of ownership that Chris was close to coming too.

 

He climbed up Chris’ body, not letting his hand go of him at first but slowing down, covering every impossible inch of him with his breath, his touch, the flutter of his eyelashes against his skin. Chris’ lips met his before he gave a conscious thought to the kiss, his tongue demanding entrance with the sleek press of urgency. Darren felt the hand that had never left his hair curve behind his neck, another hand clutching tight around his waist, holding him down.

 

Chris reminded him of storms, the kind that dulled everything they touched because nothing was as powerful or alive as the pure water they were made of, the pure force of nature making itself known without permission or apology. He was on top but felt as restrained as Chris was under him, unable to move but against each other. Supporting himself with a forearm next to Chris’ head on the pillow, he let go of Chris’ length and lifted him up by his lower back, his arm sliding between Chris and the bed.

 

The sun outside had moved, the light breaking into diffused golden clarity over the walls. Darren couldn’t breathe.

 

They moved against each other, the sweat between them hurting their skin more than helping but they were unconscious of it; only mindful of their mouths locked tight, their tongues curling against each other in turns. Chris tasted himself in Darren’s mouth, sucking his tongue in after a particular twist of their hips. He moaned loudly, freeing himself of the kiss to try and take a deep breath but their chests were crushed to each other, their lungs tried to expand at the same time and instead of stopping to give themselves space they rocked their hips even harder.

 

Darren brought his hand back from under Chris, presented him his palm and Chris didn’t need telling before he pressed the broad of his tongue to it, taking his time to lick from wrist to fingertip.

 

They looked at each other with barely opened eyes, the effort too much, silent but for their harsh breathing. Their mouths barely touched in the time it took for Darren to grab them both in hand, barely holding half their thickness but enough to give them direction. Chris bended his knees and folded his legs around the back of Darren’s thighs, locking his ankles together and holding on as they began to move again, rolling their hips with the desperation of finality.

 

Chris came first, and the unguarded look of pleasure on his exhausted face was the only thing Darren needed to follow, his back going rigid for suspended seconds before collapsing back on the mess made across their skin.

 

A quick clean up with the tissues kept on the bedside table and Chris kissed Darren softly on the lips. Their mouths were closed and they didn’t move to deepen it, didn’t feel the need when it alone felt like welcomed branding. Chris brought the sheets back over their bodies, sighing as his head hit the pillow and curling close to Darren.

 

Darren thought about choices, watching Chris slowly falling asleep next to him. Moments like this, Darren wished he had never kissed Chris that first time. He wished he could kiss him every second of his life. He wished he could get out of the bed and never come back to him. He wished Chris would accept his offer to leave everything behind and disappear together into the metaphorical sunset.

 

Chris’ eyelashes fluttered close, and his breathing evened out.

 

He stayed for another hour, just guarding his sleep. Before his phone blasted the alarm clock, Darren cupped Chris’ cheek, his fingertips caressing his temple. Their foreheads touched, and he breathed out once, twice. Darren kissed the back of the hand closest to him and left without looking back. Knowing he was out of choices, like each time.


End file.
